


What about This Makes You Think It's a Prank

by whittler_of_words



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, M/M, MSPARP, One Shot, Requited Love, but alas there is nothing else, the tags feel so empty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 01:46:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whittler_of_words/pseuds/whittler_of_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>re·quite</strong><br/><em>tr.v.</em> <strong> re·quit·ed, re·quit·ing, re·quites</strong><br/>1. To make repayment or return for: requite another's love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What about This Makes You Think It's a Prank

You’re laying down on the couch, your arm slung over your face, barely even paying attention to whatever nature documentary is playing out on the TV, when you hear the door to the apartment open and close. Last time you checked, the show was something about monkeys, you think. It’s a little hard to remember because you’re so fucking tired, even though you did fuck-all today. Maybe you’re coming down with something. Wouldn’t that just be great?

“Hey, Egbert,” you say into the crook of your elbow. 

“Hey.” There’s the familiar sound of him taking off his shoes by the door, and then a moment of silence. You drift lightly, your eyes closed behind your shades, before you’re jerked out of it by the sound of John’s voice.

“Uh. Are you okay? You’re being kind of quiet.”

“Yeah, just chillin’, you know how it is.” You blink a couple times, trying to resist the urge to rub your eyes behind your shades because it feels like you just got into a comfortable position and you know the second you move it will be lost forever. “Just basking in the beauty of our glorious broship.” John does his little “hehehe” snicker that you know him for and then suddenly there’s a mysteriously Egbert-like weight sprawled over your legs. You glare down at him, trying to shove him off, but he only smiles at you innocently and settles in deeper. 

“Shhh, you talk too much. Keep on chilling. I was just worried about my best bro.”

“Rude,” you scoff. “I’m cry. You got me feeling all emotional.”

“Dude, no, you know very well I care about you. This bromance is sacred.”

“You see this?” You gesture vaguely to the floor. “That is my heart crushed into little itty bitty pieces all over the floor, because. You hurt my feelings.”

“I’m picking them up,” John bends over until his arms hang over the couch. “And gluing them.”

“No man, get your mitts off of my heart pieces.”

“Nope! Gonna get my mitts on those pieces and fix ‘em up.”

“F-U.”

“Yes, F me.” Woah, okay, he was sounding a bit too serious right there. Good thing you can always fall back on jokes.

“Oh, John, tell me more.”

“Tell you what?” That look is… too innocent. Damn. Looks like he’s not going to let you get away with a joke this time. Shit, shit, abort mission, abort, abort.

“Nevermind. You heard nothing.”

“I did.”

“ _Nothing_.”

“Yes I did. Now _spill_.”

“Okay Rose, sure, let me pour out to you all of my inner thoughts and desires.”

“Yes, the doctor is in. Although I am only the replacement for today.” Jesus Christ he took the bait. Thank the fucking Lord.

“Well, you see…”

“Go on.”

“The problem is…”

“Yes?”

Pause for dramatic effect. “I am just too cool. I don’t know how to handle all this coolness.”

“Hmm… That is tragic, my dear David,” he says, all mock seriousness. You can almost see the chinhand. 

“What do you recommend? Please help me, Doctor Egbert.”

“Calm down sir, I am a professional. Have you considered a heater?”

“Oh, how ingenious. How have I never thought of that before?”

“You may now kiss my feet,” he says, trying to muffle his laughter as you shove him again with your legs. “And pay your damn bill. Got to keep food on the table!”

“Someone’s got to bring home the bacon. Otherwise who would take care of dear Casey?”

“My precious baby,” he sighs, casting a glance over to where the salamander hangs out in her tank. “I am a doctor by day and a mother - father? - by night. I am just too busy.”

“We wouldn’t want to have to explain to her why Santa Claus didn’t leave presents for her under the tree this year.”

“Oh no, I would die.” He probably would, too. That kid loves his salamander waaay to much for a guy his age.

“When can we schedule another appointment, Doctor Egbert?”

“Oh, anytime. It’s been a slow day. Slow week. Slow month.”

“Awesome. This was a truly enlightening exploration into my character. Rose would be jealous.”

“Yeah, I’m just… cool that way.” You wait for him to realize what he just said. When he does, you can’t help but smirk. Just a little bit. “Oh no,” he says, his voice laced with horror. “I caught the Strider.” He gives a couple of fake coughs into an arm.

“Quick bro, run. Save yourself.”

“Save meee,” he says weakly, flopping back so he’s laying fully on you more than the couch.

“Actually, now that I think about it,” you muse, “Maybe this is a good thing. Join me. Join me in cooldom.”

“How dare you infect me with coolness, you asshole. I am so done.”

“Aw baby, you know you love it.”

“Baby cakes, no. I belong to no one.”

“Not even if I give you tribute of thirty cows?” He deliberates a moment.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he says thoughtfully. “But I’m lactose intolerant. Too bad, so sad.” Wait, he’s lactose intolerant?

“Oh shit, really?”

“No.”

“Oh.” You were about to flip your shit there. What kind of guy doesn’t know about the kind of thing like your best friend being lactose intolerant?

“You’re such a dummy,” he snickers.

“Asshole.”

“Such a fool. A cool fool.”

“The coolest.” He gives you a flat look, almost good enough to be a Strider poker face. Mark you down as impressed. You break your own practiced cool to wink at him. You know he can tell, even though you have your shades on. “You make my heart do the smiley emote.” Another flat look.

“No, I think you’re high.”

“This is called imagination, get your facts straight.”

“High. High as a mountain.”

“Ironic.”

“It’s hilarious.”

“It’s ironic, don’t deny it. Don’t even try.”

“I’ll think about it.”

There’s another moment of silence. He’s warm over your legs, even if he’s a bit heavy. Eh, you’ll put up with it.

“Be careful.”

“Huh?” He sends you a confused look.

“We wouldn’t want you to think too hard and you hurt yourself.”

“I’m not thinking at all,” he says, voice almost completely monotone, and you just _know_ this is going to be a shitty one-liner, “because you just blew my mind.”

If that’s how he wants to play, then you’ll play.

“You take my,” pause for dramatic effect, “ _breath away._ ”

“I suddenly have the urge to punch you in the lil Davey.”

“Oh no, don’t hate on lil Davey. Lil Davey has done nothing to you. Why would you be so cruel?”

“Oh Dave,” John sighs. “Dave, Dave, Dave. My dear Dave.”

“Yes, John?”

“I cry for you sometimes.”

“Don’t worry. I cry for me sometimes, too. And for your lack of appreciation for the fine arts.” John then devolves into a fit of laughter not really deserving of your comment, but hey. John apparently thinks the same thing.

“Why am I laughing?” He asks, still in the midst of a slowly relenting fit of the giggles.

“Because I’m hilarious?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Then why _are_ you laughing? We just don’t know.”

“Maybe because you’re dumb?”

“Hey. That’s not nice. Dumbdumb.” John snickers at that. “You are a poopyface.”

“Pssssh. Calling me a poopyface will you get you nowhere, Dave. Not even with me.”

“Oh, yeah? Then you’re a weiner.”

“Thanks for reminding me I have one. Thanks, man.”

“Dude, how do you forget?”

“I dunno, I just did.”

“Amazing.”

“I was _kidding_ ,” he says, which. You totally knew. Pffft. Yeah. “See? Dumb. You own a kingdumb of coolness.”

“Buuurn,” you say, covering your mouth with a hand in mock offense. “I am so burned right now, you have no idea.” John burst out a triumphant “Ha!” “I bow down to you.” You wave your arms in what you guess might look like a bow-y sort of thing. If you squint. “All hail Egderp, the derpiest of eggs.

“Yes, good,” he says. “Bow down to me, baby cakes. Because I am a man. A man…. of awesomeness.” You both fall quiet again. Your silences with John are usually chill, laid back, but… this one isn’t, somehow. It might even be described as… _awkward_. Well, holy hell, when did that happen and why, because you were not informed. You’re in the middle of trying to figure out how to break out of it when John speaks up. “We should totally hold hands to break the tension.”

“Yeah. Something totally casual like that.”

“The tension of me being so charming.”

“And my stunning good looks. Bitches be blinded as we walk by. Errbody be double-taking.”

“My cute looks make the girls just squeal.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘adorable’,” you say. “They want to pinch your cheeks.”

“Oh, I know..” he says, and you think to yourself _wait for it_. “...but which ones?”

“No. Goddammit.” John laughs some more. “How did I know?”

“Do you want to pinch my cheeks too, Dave?” John teases. “I never knew you were that kind of guy!”

“I’ve always been that kind of guy, you oblivious assbut.”

“Me? Oblivious? Please. I have a keen sense of noticing things.”

“Eyes like a hawk, until your glasses are off.”

“Shut the fudge up. I know very well somebody likes me.” Well, if that isn’t new. Your attention is caught immediately. You try to fight down the… something that’s swirling around uneasily in your stomach.

“Oooh, do tell.”

“Nah.”

“Bro. Egbert. John.”

“What?”

“Bro code demands it. Tell me who’s been wanting to get their mack on with you.”

“Hmm…”

“Tell me who’s been vying for your affections.”

You feel him shift uneasily, and then straighten up. He hesitates. “R...ose?”

Wow. Um. Shit. That… wasn’t expected at all. Just. Really? You nod thoughtfully, trying to ignore that something in your stomach because you’re getting an inkling of what it is and no.

You are _not_ jealous.

“Cool.”

“Cool?” John repeats, a note of disbelief in his voice. “That’s it?”

“I’m going to give her so much shit.”

“What? Why?”

“Because reasons,” you say. “How do you know it’s her, though?”

“I’m not stupid, Dave,” he huffs. “She’s been giving me the looksies. Or, something like that.” He waves a hand dismissively, and you can’t help but relax a little bit.

“Dude, no,” you say. “She gives _everyone_ the looksies. It’s how she burrows into your soul so she can chew through all the bullshit you want to hide.”

“Look who’s oblivious now.”

“No, dude, trust me. I _lived_ with that chick once, I know how she works.”

“Yeah, but why do you want to go after her?” he asks. 

“Because, you little shit. She’s always carping on me about how I need to find someone to hunker down with, and now I have good payback material. If she’s actually going after you, that is. I have my doubts.”

“Chill. Don’t get all lonely there. There are plenty of fish in the sea,” he recites.

“Ew, bad metaphor, no,” you groan.

“Ew, yes.”

“No.”

“But I didn’t say I liked Rose, did I,” he says, and thinking back on it, he actually didn’t. You had just assumed. “Hypothetically, what if I was…” He clears his throat, and you can feel him playing with your shoelaces. “What if I was the fish? What would you do?”

Your heart freezes in your chest for a moment. Is he really- could he _actually be_ \- is he asking the question you think he is? Because holy shit. _Holy shit_. You do your best to keep your internal freak out just that - internal - as the seconds stretch by. What do you say? Do you tell him the truth? Do you joke around, or? On second thought.

Is he even _serious_ about this?

“Nope, I refuse,” you say. “This is a trap and I know it. I won’t fall for another prank this time.”

“Aahh...” he says knowingly. “No answer, I see. Just dandy with me.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then gives a thoughtful “Hm.”

“‘Hm’ what?”

“Hm,” he goes. “Just. Hm.”

“Hm.” It’s quiet again. John is still playing around with your shoelaces, and you can tell from the look on his face you can barely see that he’s contemplating something. You give him a moment. You’re not really eager to speak first, anyway.

“You think I’m pranking you?” he asks, and you shrug to the best of your ability. It’s not the best of shrugs, seeing as how you’re laying down, but you think John gets the message.

“Well, why wouldn’t you? You’ve only gotten me like, three times already in one conversation.”

“I was only trying to rile you up.” Is that a hint of guilty sadness you hear in that voice? That won’t fucking do at all.

“Yes, you were. And you always are. You are perpetually on the hunt for poor, gullible assholes with your hawk eyes.”

“My amazing eyes.”

“So amazing. Much blue.”

“Very ocean. Wow,” he says, snickering, and you give yourself a mental fistbump for managing to bring his mood back up. “Look into my eyes and you will find that fish. But plot twist? The fish was…” You go Egbert, use your learnings and ride that dramatic pause to the end. “...me all along.”

“More like super plot twist,” you say, trying to pretend he’s not the one who keeps coming back to this topic because if it turns out this is actually a joke, well. You just don’t want to know. “We shall swim happily together for the rest of our fishy days. It will be beautiful.” You are struck with a strange thought. “Hey, do fish cry do you think?”

“Possibly,” he says, which is not a satisfactory enough answer for you. You flop down the hand that isn’t currently taking residence over your face and pat down your jeans to find the pocket that holds your phone. You pat something that isn’t attached to you before you redirect your course - sorry Egbert - and fish your phone out of your pocket. 

“A quick google search says no,” you say after a moment, “but there’s always a chance that they’re crying on the inside. Especially the emo fish. Because there are emo fish out there, John. This is a thing that I know to be true.”

“Wow,” John says, and he leans a bit over your legs. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? That was kind of weird, even for you.”

“I’m hella tired,” you say, “but otherwise peachy keen.”

“Then why don’t you just go to bed, doofus? It’s kind of late.”

“Well, I would, but you see, there’s this strange mass that seems to just be weighing down inexplicably over my legs and I can’t seem to move. If I try I might end up like one of those old ladies in that Life-Alert commercial. ‘Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up because Egbert won’t shove off!’”

“Oh no, that would be bad,” he agrees solemnly. “But it’s just your luck. I think the strange mass has decided to move on to comfier pastures than your bony legs.” 

“How kind of it,” you say as he slowly slides off to flop to the floor with a light _oof_. “I should send it a thank you card for it’s generosity.”

“A gift basket would be nice!” You sit up, fighting the small wave of dizziness that hits you after so long a time staying horizontal. John takes the hand that you offer as you stand. He doesn’t let go. You don’t, either.

“All aboard the U.S.S. Let’s Go the Fuck To Sleep,” you mumble, hoping it’s dark enough that he won’t be able to see the heat rising to your cheeks. His laugh is touched with nervousness at the edges, but he doesn’t fight you as you drag him along to your shared room. He hesitates as you roll onto your bed before climbing in beside you, burrowing himself under the blanket. Before you can, he takes your shades off for you slowly, smiling nervously as he does, and places both his and your glasses on the nightstand. 

“Goodnight, Dave,” he whispers, his hand reaching out under the covers, and you bring your own hand forward to bring your fingers together.

“Night, John,” you say, and the smile he gives you before he closes is so bright you half expect it to leave little shadows on your vision. You can still see the after-images of it against your eyelids when you close your eyes. But you’re not complaining.

The exact opposite of that, really.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the lovely [dodo-excuse](http://dodo-excuse.tumblr.com/) for the lovely rp! I took this from a little thing on msparp we did, and it's the first time I've done something like this so if the timing was messed up in any way then there ya go. I was Dave, and she was the excellent John. I left it mostly as it was, beside for some minor editing to make things flow a bit better and the end where we'd left early. I don't know why this took me as long as it did, seeing as how it's so short compared to longer things i've written faster. Oh well. We can't have it all!
> 
> Idk what universe this is set in. Post-Game? No-Game? You decide :)


End file.
